Midnight confessions
by free-from-ed
Summary: As Emily starts to relapse into her eating disorder, can Hotch be the one to pull her out of it? *trigger warning*
1. Chapter 1

She stares at herself in the mirror. Will she or won't she. The team is here, they might hear, but she can be quick, she's learnt to be quick. She ducks into the stall, locks the door, places some toilet paper in the bowl, and empties the contents of her stomach.

It's been months since she's let the need get the best of her. Months since she hasn't been able to control it, months of resisting stress and temptation. She's even had her hands half raised towards her mouth in the shower, and ended up hugging herself instead under the warm cleansing water. But not today. It has been building, the oily food just tipped the bucket, just seeing it pool there at the bottom of her stirfry, the fat on the meat... She can't have that sitting in her stomach, she has to get it out. Then her world will be cleansed and she can continue.

"Prentiss?"

She hears Hotch's voice call out from the bull-pen, guessing the briefing is about the start. She rinses her face, and washes her creased hands. With her game face on, back out into the main room she walks.

The team is investigating the abduction of 5 brunette women from local universities. So far no-one has been able to establish a signature on the creep, which is why the BAU was brought in.

"Prentiss, there you are, can you take lead on the briefing?" Hotch asks in passing as he continues to skim through a file.

"Sure, no problem." She replies.

Great, nothing better than public speaking. She has worked hard to hide her anxiety, that people are judging her, thinking she lacks confidence, maybe that's why she doesn't let them get to know the real her. She keeps a lot of herself caged, away from the team. But hesitation equals weakness, so she launches right in.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that evening the team checks into a hotel. She likes the break, when they travel. It's nice having someone just a room down, rather than the solitude of her apartment. She is having trouble sleeping for some reason. Not sure what is bugging her, she decides to go for a jog, let the night air freshen her mind. She takes care to stick to main roads, always keeping a distance from car doors, save someone open one into her face, on accident or on purpose. There is something invigorating about a night run. That hint of danger and fear that makes her run faster, saying fuck you too all the assholes who would make her feel fear, as she runs, and keeps running. She has the right to feel safe, but after all she's seen, she finds it hard to let her guard down, to fully relax.

She arrives back at the hotel room. It's 1am and she really should get some rest. She opens the door, panting from nearly sprinting the last kilometre. She freezes mid breath. Hotch is sitting in a chair, waiting for her.

"Hotch, you scared me!"

Taken aback momentarily, she manages to recover.

"Couldn't sleep?" she ventures to ask.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replies.

"I just had some extra energy to burn off, that's all." She tries to hold his gaze, but his eyes are too solid, too suspicious.

He continues to stare at her for a moment, as if unsure whether to continue.

"Prentiss, I know it's none of my business, but I need my whole team to be functioning well, we can't profile properly if people are distracted."

"I agree, is someone distracted?" She attempts to escape his implications.

Again, silence lies between them. Hotch slowly stands and approaches Emily. She finds herself instinctively taking a few steps back. Realizing her mistake she stands her ground as he takes a few more steps past her, and closes the door, leaving them both standing there in her darkened hotel room.

"Prentiss, going for a jog at midnight with a serial killer hunting brunettes on the loose... It doesn't take a profiler to know that something's up."

She stands there speechless. She hadn't expected him to come to the point quite so quickly. Usually they left this kind of thing out, allowing each other their privacy. They already share so much, there was a general agreement to lay off the behavioral analysis of team members.

"Hotch, I just couldn't sleep. Besides, I can take care of myself, it doesn't mean..."

"Emily, I don't want to hear excuses if that's all you have to give me. I'm sorry for commenting, I just, I really need your head in this one. If you want to talk..."

"I know, thanks Hotch."

"Well I should get some sleep. Breakfast is at 7am tomorrow, so we can head to the department early. It's been a while since you've come to one, it'd be nice to see you."

"I will, I promise. Night."

Hotch leaves and Emily slowly crumbles to the ground. She hates that he has noticed. She knows he suspects a pattern, but he has nothing to prove it. Nothing to confirm his suspicions. She may have to show up to breakfast tomorrow.

Frustrated anew, she climbs into bed, hoping that tomorrow won't leave her feeling as hollow. Hoping that her emptiness will end up perfecting the void.


	3. Chapter 3

"Prentiss, fancy seeing you up early!" Reid's surprised expression shows through his boyish smile. He is way too chirpy in the morning for her liking. How he can eat anything he likes and remain as perfectly sculpted as he is never stops eating at her.

"I like to keep you on your toes." She quips back, managing a smirk.

"Want some pancakes?"

"Ugh, pancakes," she thought, "talk about thigh cloggers." She looks up and sees Hotch stroll in, coffee in hand.

"Ah, sure, you bet!" She replies, just a little too slowly, but Reid doesn't notice. He is already explaining the origin of maple syrup, giving her time to think in her own mind. She has to play the game, especially now Hotch has his antennas up.

Reminding her of her high school days, she drinks as much water as she can between bites, cutting the pancakes into tiny pieces. She stops when she sees Hotch starring at her. Damn, she hadn't realized how ritualistic this must look. With her parents, they hadn't noticed, mostly because they were on the phone or reading a paper as they ate. But here she is, sitting across from FBI analysts.

Excusing herself, she abruptly walks back to her room, starts the shower, and leans over the sink. Shoving her fingers down her throat, she waits for the endorphins to rise. Heat begins to fill her face, as she feels the rush of release. Stupid. How could she be stupid. She shoves harder and harder, as the last of her pancakes came out. Staring at the basin, she feels satisfied. She helps the rest of it flow down the sink, and hops into the shower, to cleanse the rest of her body, inside, now out.

A few minutes later she hears a knock on the door.

"Prentiss, we're leaving in 5." It sounds like Morgan.

She turns off the shower, quickly redresses, and brushes her hair as she walks towards the door.

"Prentiss?"

"Coming."


	4. Chapter 4

They arrive at the local station at 7.30am. A new body has shown up overnight, but still no signature. Emily stares at the face of the latest victim. She looked torn, but, almost peaceful - motionless, cold, and untouchable now.

She shakes herself out of her thoughts to see Hotch staring at her again. This is the last thing she needs. She decides to ask about the case.

"So has forensics come up with anything on the body that might give us a clue about this unsub?"

Reid glances over the latest report, highlighting the details for the team. She allows her mind to wander for a moment longer. It was the victim's eyes that were holding her attention, so glazed and free of care now.

"Prentiss. Prentiss." Hotch's voice sounds irritated from having to repeat himself.

"Yes?"

"You and Morgan go and check out the dump site, look for any clues that may have been overlooked."

"Sure."

She really needs to get her head on today. It isn't helping that Hotch seems to be watching her every reaction or lack thereof. At least getting out of the station with Morgan will give her a break from his gaze.

"Dibs on driving." Morgan's cocky smile is evident from his tone.

"Sure." She replies weakly.

"Hope I don't get lost..." He grins, trying to get a reaction.

"Yeah." She continues to walk towards the car in her own world.

His expression seems to falter seeing her lack of responsiveness.

"Emily, you ok?"

That grabs her attention. "Why does everyone keep asking me that! Just drive the car Morgan."

"Whoa, relax. Talk to me."

"It's nothing, really I'm fine." She realizes her overreaction and tries to steady her tone. "Just had a late night."

"Ok." He decides not to push it, and starts the car.


	5. Chapter 5

Arriving at the crime scene, she can feel something is wrong. Her chest feels tight, so she practices her breathing. She lets Morgan do most of the talking, just reflecting back the last parts of his sentences, and asking basic questions. It makes it easier.

The team has received a tip about a local guy from a campus who had been seen with the latest victim earlier in the evening. They were cross-checking to see if he has any relationship to the previous victims. So many victims, so little time to stop this guy before he strikes again. She feels the bile begin to rise in her throat, and has to rest her arm against a tree for a moment.

Morgan is busy talking with a local officer so he doesn't notice. She steadies herself, as Morgan walks back towards her. He appears to be chatting to Hotch on the phone now.

"Great we'll be there in 5. We gotta move Prentiss. They got a hit on the guy she was seen with last night, apparently all the victims signed up to the same dating site with him on it. We're bringing him in."

Relief and adrenaline begin to flow through her veins, and she rides the high, rushing towards the car. Speeding, they arrive just as Hotch and the team pull up. They fan out, as a team, approaching the house of the unsub.

Suddenly, they hear the back door slam and over the side fence jumps the unsub. Luckily, Morgan runs him down, tackling him to the ground.

"What are you running for, got something to hide?"

Hotch jogs up to them, helping Morgan take the unsub to the back of the SUV.

"Hotch, you better come take a look at this." Reid's voice draws Hotch's attention to a room inside the unsub's house, complete with 6 tiny locks of brunette hair. He has cut about 1 cm off each of them, which is why they haven't noticed. His signature. They have found the guy.


	6. Chapter 6

It is only early afternoon, but they are beat. Hotch decides to give the team the rest of the night off, and head back to Quantico early the next morning. Prentiss goes straight back to the hotel and lies on her bed. She feels relaxed for a moment, lying there, just fazing into nothingness. She often feels lonely, agitated, angry, and tired. But hopeless is what does her in. She feel trapped sometimes, too many options, but no way forward. She doesn't know how to escape it.

She thought she had it under control, but this case has brought it all back to her. Twice in two days she has let it get the better of her. She knows that if she goes back to good habits, she will not lose control again, for a while. But it's so hard to see from where she is, lying there. She just wants the world to leave her alone, and stop bugging her. She needs a break.

"Prentiss?"

Hotch's gentle voice sounds on the other side of her door. Her stomach sinks. This day is far from over, and now she has to socialize with the team, no case talk tonight. Normally she doesn't mind, she even enjoys it. But not tonight, tonight she just needs her own cocoon.

"We're going out for dinner, are you joining us?"

"Sure, I'll be right there."

Great, now another meal she'll have to purge. She knows she can't keep anything down when she's in this mindset, which was why she fights so hard against it. It has been hard enough not letting them find out up until now, by confining her b/p to her home life. She has never allowed herself to be this reckless around the team before.

She opens the door with a smile. "What are we eating?"

"I think Reid is pushing for Asian food again, wants to prove to us he can eat with chopsticks now or something." Hotch smirks as he speaks, showing a softer side of him Prentiss knows is there, but rarely sees so plainly.

His softness disarms her for a moment. "Hotch, I...ah.. nevermind, let's go, Asian it is!" She recovers quickly, striding past him smiling.

His eyes follow her as she brushes past, apparently in a rush to get to dinner now. Something is not right, but he has to bite his tongue. She needs to ask for help before he can give it. She has to be ready, he knows that. But it's hard to watch her continue on this path.

He has had his suspicions for a while. She works a little too intently at meal times, and never misses a workout session. She probably trains more than Morgan. But being busy and keeping fit are not negatives in themselves.

It was the way she looks at food. The way she limits her options. Never oil. Never fat. But then he has seen her devour a whole packet of rice crisps, or biscuits on a bad day. It has been a while since he has had any reason to worry, but recently, he has felt something has changed. That in itself isn't really much to go on, but he has learnt to notice the little things.

"Hotch, are you coming?" Prentiss' voice sounds from down the corridor.

"Yeah, sorry." He walks after her.


	7. Chapter 7

After dinner, Prentiss says goodnight early and returns to her hotel room. She feels weighed down after the soup she has eaten. She had resisted purging at the restaurant, as Hotch had decided to go to the mens when she excused herself for the bathroom. She had had a distinct feeling that he would have been listening through the wall, and seeing how long she stayed in there.

She sits down on the edge of her bed, slightly agitated. It is only 8.30pm, so she decides to go for a jog. The sun is going down, but there is still a reasonable amount of light.

By 9.30 it is completely dark. The street lamps light her way as she makes the final approach back to her hotel room, but something in her doesn't let her stop running. She makes a detour to the other side of the street, and heads back out for another lap of her route.

By 10.30, she is beginning to feel it. Her pace has slowed, but is still passable. She doesn't let a bit of fatigue beat her. She takes a breath, relaxes her shoulders, and allows her internal energy renew her forces as she heads back for a third lap.

She finally makes it back to the hotel room at 11.50pm. The last lap has really taken it out of her. She hasn't run that long in a while. It feels good to be that spent, and she walks into her hotel room half collapsing, closing the door weakly behind her.

She looks up, and barely has enough energy to be startled by Hotch, who is sitting on the chair again.

"Hotch! You're making a habit of these late night visits... people might start asking questions!"

She decides to go with humour, not knowing what is about to hit her, or if she has the strength left to deal with it tonight.

Hotch just sits there, with a look of concern and hesitation melded into one. He opens his mouth to speak, then thinking better of it, he stands up, and begins to slowly pace back and forth. Emily hasn't seen him like this before. She lies down, exhausted, and puts her feet up the wall to allow the lactic acid to drain out of them. He finally stops, sighing softly, and comes and stands next to her. Slowly crouching down, he rests his back against the wall until he is sitting facing her as she lies there.

"Emily, I know you've been having a rough time with this last case. I know I can't make you, but please, talk to me, tell me what's going on. I'm here for you, and I want to help."

She looks up into his eyes, half dazed from the run, half foggy from her life.

"Hotch, it's nothing really. I just went for a run... a long run... to de-stress. There's nothing to read into."

She holds his gaze, for as long as it takes for him to look away. A look of pain crosses his face as he stares at his hands.

"Hotch..."

"Why won't you tell me?" His voice is soft, almost broken.

She hasn't seen him so exposed, so vulnerable, but she can't break. She can't give him what he is asking for. He raises his gaze, boring into her eyes. And she can't hide it anymore. He can see her, and she knows that he knows. She knows that he can see her weakness, her pain. But she can't understand why he isn't walking away. Surely she is too weak to be a team member, the real her, the one she keeps locked away. She has no right walking among such valuable men and women, and then there is her, the imposter, the self-doubter. But he holds her gaze, as tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

"I... I need help." The three words she has needed to say for so long, but has never felt she had someone to say them to. The three words that were standing between her, and the rest of her life, between her and any life.

"I'm here. You have it."

He grabs her hand and squeezes it hard. She allows her legs to fall down, as she sits up, turning away from him. But he hugs her anyway, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm here Emily, for whatever you need."

They sit there for a moment, allowing the tears to flow freely from her eyes. Softly, she speaks, "I need someone to stay in the room with me at night. Just to be there. Even when I ask them to leave. I can't be alone at the moment."

He hugs her tighter, knowing that finally he can help, finally she will let him.

"You won't be alone. We'll be home tomorrow, and I'll come over after work. We can watch a comedy and relax. I'll help you stop again."

She relaxes back into his arms, exhausted and spent. She closes her eyes, as the slightest tinge of hope creeps back into her world. "Perhaps tomorrow can be different," she thinks as she drifts away into sleep.


End file.
